Rescue
by poxelda
Summary: While preparing for a fishing trip, Mac and Jack are attacked by mercenaries. Help comes from the worst place ever. Warning for Violence and language. Hurt/Comfort/Action
1. Chapter 1

Mac bent and caught the bag with the eggs in it before it fell out of his hand. He gritted his teeth as the paper store. As always, he could hear Bozer's voice. "Don't take it all at once, man. Two trips! Two!" Mac shook his head. It was an argument the pair have had since they were seven. Mac hated making multiple trips for groceries; it was inefficient. Mac did have to admit he hadn't quite gotten the proper configuration down yet to avoid-

Of course, it happened again. The bag died with a rip.

"Dammit!" Mac growled. He watched as the eggs landed on the tar and exploded. Cans flopped out bouncing painfully off his toes then rolled in all directions. The fruits, vegetables, bread and beef landed with broken splats. Mac's shoulders slumped. He held a gallon of milk and part of the torn bag. He shook his head and began to gather the scattered groceries.

If he had remembered the reusable bags, if the grocery store hadn't run out of plastic bags, and if...ok, Mac sighed, if he'd finally conceded the win to Bozer and made multiple trips...this wouldn't have happened-again.

Mac climbed under a Tahoe to retrieve a can of asparagus. He heard the scuff of shoes beside him. He wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed about being caught kneeling under this guy's truck or knowing someone had watched his groceries explode.

"Sorry about all this…" Mac kept low narrowly missing cracking his head against the front axle as he backed out snagging a wayward can of beets as he crawled backwards. He rose to his knees and turned to look at the driver.

"Hello, MacGyver." Mac's heart stopped. The cans hit the ground again. Murdoc. Mac's mouth dried and his heart pounded in his ears. Murdoc stood wearing his long black coat his hands in his pocket. His black eyes roamed the parking lot around them, "Where's your pet monkey?"

Mac gritted his teeth and stood with much less grace than he wanted. He squared his shoulders and didn't try to hide the cold hatred on his face.

"What do you want?" Mac growled. Murdoc turned and smiled. As usual, Mac felt a cold snake coil in his gut.

"Why, Angus, I'm here to save your life." Mac narrowed his eyes. Murdoc was different. Like any true sociopath, he could control his expressions perfectly, but Mac could definitely see nervousness or fear…?

"What are you talking about?" Murdoc rolled his eyes. He reached out to grab Mac's arm. Mac stepped back automatically thrusting the milk between them. He winced at the amusement in Murdoc's flat smile. Mac felt his face flush a shade. Murdoc huffed.

"I hate to use trite quotes but, 'Come with me if you want to live.'" Mac scoffed.

"You're joking." Mac scanned the parking lot his brain furiously trying to figure out Murdoc's plan. The dawn sun was just over the horizon bathing the world in soothing golden light. It was already pushing 80 degrees, but the breeze coming in from the ocean was cool and crisp. There were only a handful of cars in the parking lot and a pair of Gelson's employees trotted toward the door their voices distant murmurs. Mac saw nothing out of the ordinary. Except Murdoc. Mac couldn't think of a place the black clad menace ever would look ordinary.

"What is this?" Mac growled stepping back. Murdoc pulled a hand out of his pocket. Mac wasn't surprised to see a pistol with a silencer.

"I told you this is a rescue. Obviously your pet gorilla isn't here, so it's up to me. Get into the Tahoe, now or we're both dead." Mac straightened an eyebrow cocked.

"Or what you'll kill me?" Murdoc rolled his eyes. He raised the gun aiming at Mac's leg. Mac braced for the pain. His body flinched with the impact. Mac looked down surprised. The milk exploded in his hand. How'd Murdoc do that? Mac felt as if he'd been hit in the back with a baseball bat.

"Angus." Murdoc cried out as he dove for the ground taking Mac down with him. Mac fell to his knees puzzled. Everything moved slowly frame by frame. He stared at the milk gushing from a red-rimmed perfectly round hole. He lifted his hand. Covered with blood. Nothing hurt. How did Murdoc shoot him from the back? Mac blinked at Murdoc confused. The assassin opened the back door of the Tahoe and dragged Mac in. Murdoc glared at Mac with annoyance.

"Angus, if you die I'll be very disappointed." He growled. Murdoc slid Mac onto the back seat then crawled over him. Mac was suddenly very tired and out of breath as if he'd run a mile. The world became a shaking spinning thing. The Tahoe was moving he realized. Mac's mouth watered and his forehead flinched. He felt lightheaded and nauseous. Shock? From what? Mac closed his eyes, suddenly very tired. Mac wondered why the perfect day was sinking into foggy night and pain..

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Jack glared at his watch. Where the hell was Mac? They were supposed to meet the others at their rental yacht in Marina del Rey in twenty minutes. On the best days that was an hour's trip. Mac should have been back from Gelson's over half an hour ago. Jack grabbed the last of the fishing gear and headed for the Shelby. He moved fishing gear. They would have to put the groceries in the back seat. Jack slammed the trunk and looked up with relief as he heard wheels screech toward him. His relief was short-lived.

Two black vans squealed across the lot toward him. Jack was moving before his brain completely processed what he was seeing. He scooped his Beretta 93R out of its familiar home at the small of his back. The vans screeched to a halt and the back doors flew open. Seven men in black TAC jumped out and headed his way. Jack dove behind the tenuous cover of his neighbors Ford. The long volley of fire shredded it. Jack grimaced as he felt a bullet burn across his left rib cage. Jack's right leg kicked out from under him. Jack went with the motion and dropped to the ground he rolled toward the car beside him firing as he went. Two enemy went down. One shot between the eyes, the other in the chest. Jack assumed he was down but not out. Kevlar was standard in any TAC kit these days. Jack rolled to his feet ignoring the pain burning in his thigh. Either another graze or a through and through.

Jack ducked low and dashed zigzagging as he sprinted along the front of the row of cars. Explosions of glass, paint and shards of plexiglass and steel flew around him as he moved. He finally reached the cement sign with the property's name. Jack ducked low breathing hard. His side and leg were slick with blood.

More screeching. He didn't have to see, to know the vans had pulled closer. Jack stood and ducked out. He snap-aimed and took out three more guys. Jack ducked back as the side of the sign was gnawed by 5.6mm teeth. Heckler and Koch 416 A5, Jack thought as he checked his own ammo-nowhere enough to walk away from this. Jack shortened his profile then bobbed out of cover. He banged out three shots then ducked back. He missed one, the other two were wounds, but not serious. Jack glanced around him furious.

"Mac, where are you when I need you?" Jack heard another vehicle rev toward him. Not a van. Jack grinned, "Yeah, baby!" He yelled as he stepped out and took advantage of the distraction. He dropped three more before his Beretta clicked empty. Jack saw his attackers instantly regroup. Professionals, probably special forces-tough sons of bitches. Jack jumped over dead body and snap-kicked a soldier trying to rise to his feet. He snatched the man's rifle absently pleased he'd been right about make and model. Vaguely interesting that it was painted with jungle camo.

Jack zipped off three controlled bursts putting down two wounded and one still standing. Jack ducked his head and sprinted around the back of the van.

"Am I glad to see yo-" Jack skidded to a stop his brain taking a minute longer to catch up. Murdoc stared at him gun raised-Glock .45 cal, Jack automatically catalogued. One of the deadliest guns in the world for accuracy and stopping power. Jack raised his Beretta. Murdoc smiled and fired. Jack flinched but felt no impact. He whirled to see two attackers drop dead behind him.

"What the fu-?"

"Get in if you want to save, Angus?" Even in the fast paced fight, Murdoc's voice was calm almost bored. Jack growled. He could see the final stragglers behind him regrouping.

"This is such a bad idea." Jack muttered under his breath. He ran to the side of the Tahoe and froze, his eyes wide. Mac laid sprawled on his back. A wad of blood-soaked dressings covered his chest. Jack looked at Murdoc a promise of murder in his eyes. Murdoc smiled.

"Get in, Jack. Don't you know a rescue when you see one?"


	2. Chapter 2

"If I'd known this would be so much fun, I would have tried this hero thing sooner." Jack bent over Mac as the last remnants of the Tahoe's back window exploded over them. Murdoc swerved wildly through suburban streets. One of the vans tilted as it skidded around a corner getting closer. Murdoc grinned and glanced back.

"He isn't looking so well. He's no good to us if he's dead." Jack glared at Murdoc fighting not to wrangle the man's skinny neck.

"You aren't helping." He growled. Murdoc huffed then turned back.

"I have a kit in the back."

"Why didn't you say so?" Jack hissed. He rose to his knees. In the open luggage area behind the rear seats was a worn foot locker. Jack winced as he fell forward his knee pressing against Mac's side. Jack's worry skyrocketed when Mac showed no response.

The cloth seats squished with blood. Jack winced as another layer of blood covered the gloves of dried blood soaking his hands and clothes. Jack would never get the metallic tang out of his nose or throat. He reached out and felt Mac's pulse.

"C'mon, brother." He whispered.

"He dead yet?" Murdoc asked casually. Jack clenched his teeth and didn't answer. Jack let out a long relieved breath when he felt the faintest tremble beneath his fingers.

"He's still alive."

"Good, if he was dead already he'd be useless to us." Dead already? Us? Jack filed the questions for later. First things first. He looked up in time to see a stooped woman wobbling across the street. Holding her hand a girl in a pink fluffy dress skipped at her side. Murdoc grinned and hit the gas. Jack snarled and leaned forward and grabbed the murderer by the neck. He tugged enough to make the vertebrae creak.

"Anyone dies, you die." Jack promised. He squeezed enough Murdoc gagged. Murdoc swerved avoiding the screaming pair. Jack gave the assassin a final squeeze and let him go. Murdoc sucked in a deep breath and rubbed his throat. He shot Jack a black look.

"If you want to waste time while your golden boy bleeds out...fine." Jack's nostrils flared and his hands itched with the need to finish the man, "...can suck the fun out of a party." Murdoc growled under his breath. Jack glanced back. The van skidded around the fallen pedestrians, slowing to avoid the gathering crowd. They avoided collateral damage. Jack scowled at Murdoc. He thought about killing the man, grabbing Mac and jumping for it. He looked down at Mac.

The kid had passed grey and was sinking into a sallow that had no business being on a living human. With a final glare at Murdoc, Jack turned back to the first aid kit in the back. He opened the trunk and drew back surprised. He felt his stomach churn.

"This is a torture kit!" Jack snarled. In the trunk, Jack found knives, a blow torch, unmarked IV bags full of various colored fluids. Jack dug through trying not to puke as he found an ice scoop the same size as an eyeball, "I need a first aid kit, you psycho!"

"Tomato, tomahto! I can take apart a human with that, you can't fix one little hole? What's the point of you?" Murdoc scowled at Jack then burst out laughing, "Seriously, Jack. Don't panic. Just keep our boy alive for another twenty-minutes."

"What happens in twenty-minutes?" Murdoc rolled his eyes.

"Questions, questions. Why MacGyver lets you hang around is beyond me. Oh hold on." Jack braced himself; his eyes widened. Murdoc sped the Tahoe into a side skid narrowly missing a group of teenagers standing on the sidewalk. Jack again bent over Mac as the black vehicle slid into the side of an ice cream truck. Jack shared a look of panic with the teen holding an empty cone in his hand.

Jack rolled forward, his back slamming into the back of Murdoc's seat.

"This would be so much easier if you let me drive-"

"Forget it!"

"Fine." Murdoc grinned, "If we don't die, we should think about a road trip-"

"Forget it!" Jack bent over Mac and checked his pulse. No change. Not good, but still there. Jack pulled himself over the back of the chair. Under the torture implements, Jack found an actual first aid kit. He pulled it out and frowned tugging out a lighter taped to a tall bottle of gasoline. He set those beside him on the seat.

Rows of knives were strapped to the bottom of the trunk. Unlike the curved scalpels on the top, these were battle knives. Jack smiled and found his preferred knife a 12 inch KBAR. He pulled it out and turned back to Mac. He didn't try to hide it. His eye met Murdoc's eyes in the rearview mirror. Murdoc's smile was chilling. Jack smiled back all the rage and hatred he held in his heart. Their eyes locked for a long minute. Murdoc nodded then twisted the wheel avoiding a waddle of penguin dressed nuns.

Jack ignored the man. He gritted his teeth hating what he had to do next. He paused to cup Mac's slack face, silently apologizing for the agony to come. Jack was impressed with the medkit. He was nowhere near a doctor, but he knew the meatball surgery you had to do on the battlefield. Mac was gushing blood from somewhere inside. If that wasn't stopped, he'd bleed to death even if Jack can seal the outer wounds. He spooled out a long strand of surgical string and draped it on the top of the kit. He had no idea if it was sterile or not, but infection was something he'd have to deal with later-if there was a later. Jack pulled out the curved needle and a pair of tweezers. Jack rubbed sweat away with the shoulder of his T-shirt.

Jack doused his hands with rubbing alcohol and snapped on gloves. He took the alcohol and splashed half of it on Mac's chest. Mac's chest bounced as he gasped. His eyes cracked open then closed. Jack forced himself to keep going. He closed his eyes. Bile crept up the back of Jack's throat and he felt as if he was about to pass out. Grimly he put his index finger into Mac's chest.

He focused on what he could feel. He could feel the weak movement of the heart. He felt the sinews and ropes of arteries against his fingers as he worked his hand in deeper. He stopped feeling his finger sink into a pool of blood. Jack felt around until he felt a hole. The blood vessel was one of the smaller ones but was chugging blood out like a cut hose. Jack put his finger against the hole. It was about a quarter of an inch long. Jack used the tweezers to feed the string into the hole around his right index finger. He pulled it around the vessel then pulled both ends out. He tied it as tight as he could and knotted it with his best clinch knot. Jack grimly fed the ends of the string out of the exit wound in Mac's chest. He fumbled for the sharp scissors and leaning closer angled them in cut the strings.

He was supposed to be using that knot on fishing lures, not his best friend's guts. Jack snapped off the blood slicked gloves and grimaced. He took a steadying breath and swabbed at Mac's chest with a handful of 2x4s. Blood instantly pooled, but Jack didn't think it was as much as Mac had been losing. Jack pulled out more string and hooked the needle. With shaking hands, Jack braced himself as the Tahoe tilted to the right.

"Are you capable of driving straight?" Jack snapped. Murdoc scowled.

"You're the one who made this complicated."

"Psycho mother-" Jack trailed off as he rocked into the back of the front seats. Jack shook his head. He was so gonna kill the scrawny son of a bitch, Jack's cold blooded promise made him feel a little better. He bent over Mac and stitched the jagged hole shut with intelligent but effective large stitches. He tied it off and snipped the extra string. Jack rolled Mac toward him then awkwardly repeated the operation on Mac's smaller circular wound in his back. Jack frowned. Large bore sniper round, probably a NATO round. Jack mentally figured rough angles. The shooter had been only ten feet higher. The perfect roundness of the hole indicated 1,000 to 2,000 yards away. A hard shot, but not one that would require specialized skill. The kind of shot a hunter would make, not a military trained sniper. Jack filed the info away.

Jack swabbed the blood off Mac as well as he could, then taped taped the rest of the bandages over the sealed wounds. Jack leaned back wiping his wet forehead with the back of his forearm. He had no idea if he was covered with blood or sweat.

"Is he going to live?" Jack narrowed his eyes.

"You almost sound like you care."

"Oh, I do, Jack. I sincerely do." Jack's hackles raised with the menace in Murdoc's cold voice. Their eyes locked again. Jack felt like he was staring down a crocodile. Then Murdoc's face split with a ghoulish imitation of a relieved smile.

"Good job, Jack. I knew you had it in you. We're almost home." Jack left Mac on his side and braced the kid with his hip. He held the KBAR in a tight fist ready to use it in less than a second. He glanced around them.

Jack realized their pursuers were gone. Half-dead palm trees dangled over gravel made from years of broken concrete. Elegant rusted husks and fallen logs of decomposing cement were the only evidence of the expensive neighborhood that had died here. Falling foundations stuck out of the wild grass like tombstones. Some sunken remains of large Queen Anne and Tudor houses poked out like rotting teeth. On the cooling breeze blowing through the broken window Jack could smell the earthy bride of the ocean. Distant inhaling surf and the occasional squawks of sea birds confirmed his suspicions. He was in one of the Ghost towns in the center of LA.

"Surfridge?" Jack asked. Murdoc smiled as if Jack were a dim student.

"Close, Tasselton." Jack raised an eyebrow. In the 20s this small seaside town was going to be what Beverly Hills had become. The biggest names in Hollywood, royalty from around the world and bored billionaires built vast homesteads in a tiny zip code. Only the elite were allowed here. When the stock market crashed, so did the dreams of this tiny town. The owners sold their properties for cents on the dollar. The city bought up the properties intending to reroute the Pacific Coast Highway, but the ground was found to be unsettled silt and would have cost millions to stabilize against erosion.

The broken road began to climb into a tight curve. Jack put a hand on Mac's shoulder and hip to keep the kid from flopping to the floor. Jack grimaced as they began to bounce with potholes and cracked cement. Dunes of blowing sand and scrub covered any signs of the suburban neighborhood that once stood. Jack squinted against the sting of windblown sand. He turned away from the worst of it, but it seemed to seep in every side. Jack turned Mac's head toward the floor protecting him from the worst of it.

"Where are we going?" Jack demanded turning to spit out the sand that seeped into his mouth. Murdoc smiled.

"The perfect place for a final showdown." The murderer said with too much enthusiasm.

"Shit." Jack growled.


	3. Chapter 3

"Perfect isn't it? I thought it'd make you feel at home, you know put the the hill in hillbilly." Murdoc chuckled. Jack narrowed his eyes and took in the part of town they were pulling into. It was part of a failed amusement park. The row of buildings lining the dirt road would have fit in perfectly if they were in California two hundred years ago. The old west town had the atmosphere of a true ghost town. Jack's mouth went dry. He felt as if a demon or ghoul was about to jump out of every blackened window or creaking door.

Murdoc bounced in the driver's seat like a kid at Disney wanting the ride to be scarier. Jack's heart sank. The morgue, of course.

"Isn't this fun?" Jack bit his lip and looked down at Mac considering their situation. He gently leaned Mac back in the seat and winced at the squish of blood soaked cushion. Mac's face leaned to the side; his left side was a sticky mess of blood. Jack's stomach churned. He pushed Mac's hair away from his face. Jack closed his eyes, his hand working the handle of the knife.

"I'm sorry, kiddo." He whispered to Mac. Murdoc pulled up to a newly painted two story black building. A wooden sign hung over the door. In ornate gold lettering "Morgue" was written. As they stopped, Jack saw small print under that in crude scratches "where everyone knows your name." Jack's lip curled on one side. Murdoc got out of the Tahoe. He waved an expansive hand.

"I made this as homey as I could for you. I suggest you get Angus up and ready; they'll be here in twenty four hours to kill us, high noon. Poetic don't you think?" Jack growled. Murdoc turned and gave him a cold look.

"You owe me, Jack. You and your precious little Angus." Murdoc turned toward the building pulling a large ring of keys out of his pocket, "Besides it's not like you have a lot of choice." Jack climbed out of the rear of the Tahoe. The wind whispered over the dunes, but did nothing to cool the excruciating hot air. Jack shrugged his shoulders and cracked his neck. He gently laid Mac's head on the seat.

"Oh, there's always a choice." Jack murmured. Murdoc moved to turn around. Jack moved faster than a cobra. He grabbed Murdoc's greasy hair yanked his head back and sliced the assassin's throat.

Pain. Mac gasped. A spear stabbed him clear through. Mac tried to take in air, but couldn't. His lungs were stapled to the table-he was a butterfly in someone's collection tacked in a display by a pin. Mac's eyes snapped open. Everything was blurry, spinning. Mac arched his back his hands yanking at his chest trying to pull it-whatever it was- out of his chest. His fingers white-knuckled around empty air. Mac tried to call for Jack, but only a gurgle and whimper came out. Tears streamed down his face. His gut churned.

"Oh, hey, brother. Easy, easy I'm here." Mac opened his eyes. When had they closed? Jack's blurry face spun in circles over his head. Mac reached out trying to wheeze in air. Jack grabbed his partner's hand.

"I know it hurts, kiddo, but you need to take in air, c'mon now." Mac squeezed Jack's hand and kept his gaze focused on Jack's gentle brown eyes. It hurt worse than anything Mac had ever felt. Everything went fuzzy and grey. Mac wished it would dim to black.

"Mac? Mac? Can you hear me?" Jack's voice echoed through Mac's head. Mac sucked in a desperate breath. The more he breathed, the easier it became. Mac blinked the room faded into focus. Jack's pale face seemed to swing over Mac's head. Mac frowned. How are you doing that? Jack frowned in confusion.

"Doing what?" Mac licked his dry lips. His mouth tasted like rusty nails. Blood? Mac reached up to wipe his mouth. Jack caught his hand.

"Your swinging from the ceiling...did you just read my thoughts?" Jack laughed. Mac smiled. It was a good sound to wake up to, but that still didn't answer his questions. Mac shivered. They were in almost total dark. A single light bulb dangled above kept the blackness back. Long shadows seemed to reach across the ceiling and walls like sharp claws. Mac gulped. He was cold.

Mac turned his head and frowned. He was on a metal table. A worm niggled in the back of his mind. Over the table hung sharp implements of all kinds. Saws, knives, spikes...the wall at his feet was lined with rows of silver refrigerator doors. Mac's eyes widened like the moon. His hand travelled his chest. Stitches, tape, and gauze. An incision? Everything snapped together.

"Morgue! Morgue! I'm in a morgue!" Mac tried to sit up. He cried out with pain. He flopped to the side rolling off the table, "I'm not dead! I'm not dead!" Mac slid off the steel morbid workbench. Warm hands caught him and steadied him upright. Mac wheezed. Everything see-sawed back across his vision.

"Mac? Mac! MAC!" Mac froze looking up. His nerves tingled with dread. Jack leaned in close pulling Mac to his chest. Mac clutched Jack's T Shirt and leaned forward forcing himself to keep breathing.

"Easy, brother. I know you aren't dead. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Just breathe, ok?" Mac nodded and closed his eyes.

"S-sorry, not sure what that was…" Mac mumbled. He felt Jack run his fingers through his hair. Jack's laugh echoed through his chest and wrapped Mac in familiarity and safety. Breathing hurt, but was easier. Mac slowly pushed away. Jack held his shoulders supporting him. Jack ducked to meet Mac's gaze.

"You with me, brother?" Mac nodded and offered Jack a watery smile.

"I feel like a harpooned fish." He rasped. Jack didn't laugh. Mac frowned, "Jack, what's going on?" Jack looked down and huffed a deep breath.

"What do you remember?" Mac closed his eyes rubbing his face with a shaky hand.

"I was at Gelson's. Dropped the groceries-"

"Again." Mac shot Jack a cold glare.

"Then-" Mac's eyes widened and he sat up straight turning to take in the shadows of the room waiting for them to come alive and slither out in a black long coat, "Murdoc! Jack-"

"Easy, partner. He's not here." Mac frowned and looked down at his chest. Blood soaked the middle of a pillow's worth of white gauze. He ran his hands over it. He could feel a matching one on his back.

"Jack, what happened?"

"From what I could piece together, Murdoc set us up to protect him from a group of mercenaries."

"He saved my life." Mac wrinkled his nose at the taste of bile.

"He also put it in danger, and wanted to kill you. I think that makes you even." Mac snorted and nodded. He winced as he slid off the table. Mac reached out and put his hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack ducked catching Mac's shoulder over his as the blond tilted.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jack did not like the see- through blue-white Mac had become or the trembling of his entire body. Jack held onto Mac's waist careful to avoid the wound on his back.

"O-out of here." Mac met Jack's gaze his own full of fear and pleading. Jack glanced around him and grimaced.

"Yeah, ok. Let's go upstairs." Jack let Mac set the pace. The kid moved at a slow shuffle. He'd only gone ten feet before he faltered. His knees buckled. Jack had been waiting. He crouched and scooped Mac up. He hadn't wanted to take Mac upstairs. Murdoc had an...unusual taste in decor. He really didn't have much of a choice, they were stranded.

Murdoc hadn't survived by being overly trusting. Jack had checked the Tahoe and found several explosive devices planted under the driver's seat, attached to the engine, near the front axles and who knew where else. The desolate empty land around them acted like a magnifying glass to the triple digit heat. Jack had moved Mac downstairs to where it was cooler. The hose over the table had also proven useful to wash away blood. All the blood. Jack cleared his throat but a ball of mucus and sand seemed to stick behind his tongue. He turned Mac sideways and worked him up the rickety wooden stairs that lead from the morgue to the upper living area.

The furniture was definitely not from the 1800s. It was sleek and comfortable and covered in plastic. Jack ducked through the narrow living room. There were no windows, all of the walls, floor and ceiling were black. On the wall were pictures, selfies Murdoc took with bodies broken in the most extreme and grotesque ways. His greatest hits, Jack assumed. Through the living room, the kitchen was blood red-appliances and walls. Again, no windows. Both rooms were lit by red lights.

Jack let out a deep breath of relief. Down a small hall there was half a bathroom, closet and two bedrooms. One was inexplicably done up as a nursery. A doll with x'd out eyes laid in the cradle. The room was perfectly organized and well kept. The other bedroom was a disturbingly normal sparse bedroom. A bed covered with a simple blue quilt filled most of the room. A closet without doors was neatly stacked with black slacks and T-shirts on the left side, the right reserved for long black coats.

Jack scratched at the neck of the T he had commandeered. It was longer and tighter on him, and itched. Murdoc evidently wore new clothes without washing them. Jack laid Mac on the bed and flopped on his back beside him.

A long window without glass ran the length of the room. A crooked bamboo shade swayed in the soft wind. The light wood tapped against the window frame. In the distance, he could hear the hushing of the ocean. He didn't hear any birds. It was getting near peak of the day. Jack wiped at the thick sweat pouring down his face. He closed his eyes. It was too hot to move.


	4. Chapter 4

Mac gasped. He winced as he took in a slow deep breath. He felt sweat pour down his body and he shivered with cold. He tried to sink back into the darkness, but a familiar thudding under his ear pushed him away from unconsciousness. He shoved his eyelids up almost grunting with the effort. Everything swished around him. He blinked and licked his lips. Mac realized he was bobbing up and down like a boat on water.

Mac moaned and lifted his head. He glanced down surprised to find he'd been sprawled across Jack's chest. Mac pushed himself up on wobbly arms then flopped over on his back. He arched up as waves of cramping burned across his chest. He collapsed back and closed his eyes focusing on pushing air in and out.

What happened? Mac forced his eyes open again and took in the room. A plain bedroom. Hot. The breeze that swayed the window treatment felt like hot breath more than any kind of relief from the oven hot temperatures.

"Jack?" Mac's voice was more of a wheeze than whisper. He cleared his throat then tried again louder, "Jack?" The smooth snoring didn't change rhythm. Mac smacked Jack in the chest with all the strength he could manage.

"Uh...wha...MAC!" Jack bolted upright with a yelp a footlong bayonet in his fist.

"Hey, Jack." Mac said. He was pleased it almost sounded normal. Jack turned; his eyes scanned Mac from head to toe. Mac managed a smile as he reached up and rubbed his forehead. Everything hurt. Jack grinned.

"You're awake! Fuck it's hot!" Jack wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt.

"Yeah. Where are we?"

"What do you remember?"

"Gelson's...groceries fell all over-"

"Again?" Mac glared at Jack. Jack chuckled and scooted to the edge of the bed.

"Then...Murdoc!" Mac bolted upright. Jack reached out to steady him, but Mac collapsed back his arms curled across his chest. He rolled onto his side gasping, "Son...of...a-" Mac wheezed.

"Mac? Gotta breath, ol' son." Mac turned his head to glare at Jack. Tears trailed down his face mixing with the drops of sweat.

"Shut...up…" Mac managed, his voice tight with pain. Jack chuckled.

"Ok, I get it. Just relax." It took almost five minutes before Mac was finally able to stretch out and take in air.

"Ouch." Mac murmured wiping his head with his bare arm wincing at the wetness of his skin. Mac's skin pricked with goosebumps as he shook feeling chilled. He felt Jack's heavy gaze. Mac ignored it and rolled to his front. Biting his lip and swallowing groans of pain, Mac managed to sit on the side of the bed beside Jack. Mac's shoulders hunched forward as he tried to ease the burning agony in the center of his chest and back. Mac closed his eyes. He felt his mouth water and everything threatened to disappear in a yellowed cloud of fuzz. Mac leaned forward closing his eyes, bracing for the heave-

"Mac?" Mac held up a hand.

"Give me a sec." Mac managed as his gut spasmed. He leaned forward and gagged. Jack steadied him. Mac heaved twice more before he got control over his gut. He took deep breaths. Slowly the lines on the world around him solidified. He blinked surprised. Jack knelt in front of him, holding Mac up by the shoulders. The older man looked worried. Mac blinked sweat out of his eyes and took in a smooth breathe.

"You back?"

"Didn't go anywhere." Mac smiled easing Jack's irritation. Jack rolled his eyes and sat beside Mac, "What happened after Murdoc...didn't shoot me."

"Evidently he shoved you in his ride and drove to my house rescuing me from a gang of sophisticated mercenaries." Mac's eyebrows vanished into his bangs.

"He what now?"

"I know, right? We were chased and he drove us up here."

"Where?"

"Tesselton, it's an abandoned ritzy town from the '20s. Like-"

"Surfridge, got it." Jack told Mac everything that happened. Mac frowned. Jack's story, rich in detail, jumped from driving up the road to Mac waking up in the morgue. He'd left out a few important details.

" Where is our least favorite psycho?" Jack shook his head.

"Well, brother. I slit his throat, he took me by surprise then slithered away somewhere toward the ocean." Mac straightened. He tried to keep his disappointment off his face, but failed. Jack winced and stood up. He paced then stood with his back to Mac.

"You slit his throat?"

"I know, I know. You don't want him dead and all that jazz, but dude we have an army of souped up mercenaries on our way and-"

"It's ok, Jack. I'm only surprised you missed." Jack glanced over his shoulder surprised. Mac smiled. This time he was able to keep his disappointment from showing. He understood Jack's motivation, and had to admit the world would be a little cleaner without Murdoc in it. Mac studied Jack. He knew the Delta was capable of killing with calculated precision; was he capable of cold-blooded murder? Mac crossed his arms. He shivered even more and not just from the chills.

"Yeah, well everyone has a bad day." Jack wouldn't meet Mac's eye. Mac opened his mouth to ask Jack what was really going on. The old man cut off the opportunity "I'm gonna go downstairs and see about food. There's a shower over across the hall by the nursery." Mac paused then decided to let it go.  
"Nursery?" He asked. Jack grimaced.

"Don't ask. If you feel up to it, if not- get some rest I'll be right back."

"Ok." Jack walked past him. Mac started after his partner for a long minute. He trusted his partner with his life and more. He could go to Jack with anything. Why was Jack lying to him? What was he hiding? Mac didn't like the frigid knife running up his spine. The hot moist air seemed to hang heavy with foreboding.

Mac leaned forward and rubbed his head. There was nothing for it, he complained to himself. No matter what he did it was going to hurt and hurt like hell. He pushed himself to his feet. He tottered into the wall managing to catch himself on his right shoulder. Mac paused riding the electric foggy fuzz for a long minute. Holding his chest he staggered out the door leaning on the wall. He felt like he'd been harpooned. He had been, in a way. Oddly that didn't take away the pain or distract him from feeling short of breath.

Mac pushed himself forward trying to ignore the way the building seemed to float on the ocean waves. He paused outside the nursery. Curiosity overruled the need for a shower. Mac had always known how fucked up Murdoc was, but this...this was sick.

The walls were papered in classic victorian colors-dark for a modern nursery. The crib felt like solid oak and Mac could see chisel marks. At the bottom of the wood frame Mac could make out "Finn 1849." It swung silently. Glancing at the buildings outside the window, Mac began to wonder if this was more than just a replica of a ghost town. He'd seen pictures of mining towns from the 1849 gold rush, this could easily be one. Mac rubbed his chest as he leaned on the cradle willing the world to stop whirlpooling around him.

He leaned over and plopped into a solid wood rocking chair. The chair wobbled and squealed. Mac leaned forward and put his head in his hands. He took long slow breaths forcing his chest to work past the wall of pain strangling his front and back. Mac took in the room. The window beside the chair had a planter box hanging off the sill. Mac frowned. The dirt seemed to move. Beside the box resting on the sill, there was a large magnifying glass. Burn marks dotted the window sill.

"What the-?" Mac's eyes widened and he leaned back. Ants, the box was full of red ants. Murdoc's nursery hobby was burning them with sun through the magnifying glass. Mac felt his gut churn. He wobbled to his feet. Mac could feel the air around him bend infected with Murdoc's insanity.

"Mac turned to leave the room and paused. A small closet door stood ajar. Mac winced and slowly pulled it open. With a shriek it opened. Mac let out a relieved breath, then frowned. Shelves of tupperware containers were placed neatly on shelves. Inside them were all types of medications and dressings. Mac smiled and opened them digging out ones that would help them. Murdoc was as paranoid as Mac. All the bottles were new, so no one could easily open them without leaving a mark. Mac shoved the pills and dressings into a box and staggered to the half bath. Mac studied the plumbing and lighting. Interesting. The plumbing was antique steel fittings probably from the late 1890s. The lighting ran on electricity, but the original tubing for gaslighting still ran along the wall. Mac filed it away. The beginning of an idea was forming.

The shower was a showerhead over a porcelain bowl almost four feet across. There were no doors or walls. A single curtain, in a putrid lime green pulled completely around. A low toilet and vanity with a bowl and pitcher finished the small bathroom. Mac pulled the chain and a trickle of water dribbled out of the shower head. It was rust colored and brackish. There was a loud hiss and salty water poured out. It was lukewarm. Mac smiled and shimmied out of the remnants of his clothes.

Mac stepped in crying out in pain. The gentle rain felt like a buzz saw pounding into his chest. Mac fell to his knees biting back a scream as the salty water poured down his back. Everything blinked away.

Mac groaned and turned his head away from the constant water pummeling his skin. He spit wincing at the burn in his eyes. His skin was pale and wrinkled. How long had he been out? The floor was covered in six inches of water. Mac slowly rolled over and pulled himself up to kneeling using the curtain. He tugged on the small chain and the water stopped. Mac fell to all fours and tried to spit out the salty crust that lined his mouth.

Mac knew he couldn't stand up. He crawled toward the door, his body sliding along the slate floor. Mac used the door to creep upright. He leaned against the wooden frame; his chest heaved. His legs wobbled like Jello.

"Jack?" Mac called. No response. Mac felt his heart jump with worry, "JACK?" No answer. Mac gritted his teeth and swayed back to the bedroom. The handmade braided rugs were soaked with water. Mac paused to sit on the bed catching his breath. He gathered his strength.

"JACK!?" He called at full volume. No answer. Mac's ignored his pain and weakness. He pulled on one of the new pairs of black jeans. They fit a little too well. Wearing Murdoc's clothes made his flesh crawl. The T-shirt was long on him but tight in the shoulders. Mac snagged his shoes and box of med-supplies. He stumbled down the hall to the black living room and red kitchen.

Mac barely noticed the decor. In the kitchen, a carton of eggs had been left open. Mac lifted the coffee pot. Cold and stale. Mac brushed his bangs out of his eyes. He walked around the island and stopped. He shoved a barstool aside. Fragments of a broken plate had been swept close to the island but not picked up. A very Jack thing to do.

"Jack? JACK?" The silence was deafening. Mac slid into his boots and quickly moved throughout the building. No Jack. Breathing hard, Mac forced himself to move. He barely took in his surroundings as he moved through every room in every building. No Jack. Returning to the morgue, Mac slumped to the floor. He curled over his chest. Tears ran down his face. No sign of Jack. Mac let exhaustion and pain take him from the growing wave of worry and fear. Something had happened to Jack, and it wasn't good.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack recognized the pain in the base of his skull. Mentally he replayed the attack. Silent, efficient, deadly- Systema, the brutal martial art used by Russian special forces Jack silently groaned. He knew of an entire Russian syndicate that would love to have their claws in his hide. Was that what all this was? Jack huffed his heart sinking. Murdoc gets Mac and the Russians get him? Shit, shit, shit.

Jack forced himself to focus. He had to get back to Mac. He studied his surroundings through his eye lashes. He was in a cave made of black lava stone. His hands were shackled beside his head bolted into the cave wall. The rolling ocean sounded close. He could feel damp salt on his lips.

"You don't have to play, Jack. I know you're awake and by that happy little smile, I'm guessing you know exactly what's going on." Jack opened his eyes. The man kneeling in front of him looked like a champion pit bull with scars and torn flesh to prove it. The man's steel gray was pulled back in a ratty ponytail. His left eye was covered by a jagged black patch. His right arm was a three-pronged hook. Jack swallowed.

"Well hey Vassily, long time no see, bro-" Jack winced as his head slammed to the side blood spraying the black stone. Jack worked his jaw. Not broken. Good, the mob boss wanted to talk. Talking brought him time. Jack casually leaned back and crossed his legs.

"I get it, bud, you're pissed. I understand that. But in my defence it wasn't my fault, I didn't know-" Jack's teeth clinked together and stars exploded across his vision. The man stood over Jack and kicked the Delta in his gut and chest. A pained whoof escaped. Jack's head rocked with a boot across the head. His head hung loose blood running from his mouth. Through the thickening gauze wrapped around his head he heard a familiar slithering voice.

"Uh-uh-uh, my Russian friend. We want Jack to die slowly, remember?" Vasily stepped back growling. Jack winced as he raised his head with a groan. Murdoc smiled and sat on a rock across from Jack. He rubbed a black collar hiding a bandage over his throat. Jack smiled his teeth smeared with blood.

"Sore throat?" Vasily took a step forward. Murdoc stopped him with a hand on his knee.

"Go check on the others, we move in an hour." Murdoc's voice was raspy, barely there. Jack leaned back laughing. Murdoc's eyes flashed black with barely suppressed rage. He stood up and paced folding his hands into a tent. He turned with a wide shark smile.

"I am actually very impressed, Jack. I didn't think you had it in you." Murdoc crossed to Jack and knelt to face him-far enough away Jack couldn't do anything except sneer into the man's smiling pale face, "I'm surprised you jumped the leash Angus keeps you on." Jack narrowed his eyes. Jack's personality had two sides. One was a hot brawler, the other was cold killer. Jack felt his blood cool. He met Murdoc's psychopathic smile with one of his own. Murdoc blinked at him surprised. Murdoc studied his face and tilted his head.

"You've become much more interesting to me, Jack. I have a question for you." Murdoc stood up and smiled, "If someone lies, but the lie becomes true through no effort of his own-is he still a liar?" Jack's jaw clenched and he turned away. Murdoc chuckled.

"So what did you tell dear Angus? I attacked you and you gutted me to protect him?" Jack glared at Murdoc.

"I told him the truth." Murdoc laughed.

"I very much doubt that, Jack. See, I know Golden Boy thinks you're his perfect papa bear, you would never kill anyone in cold blood. He's funny about that sort of thing, isn't he?" Jack laughed and leaned back working his jaw.

"Mac knows exactly who I am and what I am capable of." Murdoc cocked his head.

"I don't believe you." Vasily came back in.

"The boys are ready, we should go now." Murdoc crossed to Vasily and patted his chest.

"All in good time, my friend. It won't be any fun if we don't give Angus enough time to prepare. I can't wait to see what he does. How many?"

"Thirty." Murdoc knelt in front of Jack.

"There it is, MacGyver vs 30 of the most skilled mercenaries in the world? I would put my money on dear Angus if he wasn't-well harpooned. Can I tell you a secret, Jack?" Jack snarled and pulled at the manacles.

"Seeing MacGyver splayed helpless...his bare chest broken by a single bloody belly button. Exquisite. And the surprised look on his face as he realized he's going to die. Not as much fun as being the one to save his life, but-oh fun, fun, fun."

"You're a sick fuck." Murdoc shrugged.

"I'm underappreciated. Now my friend Vasily...he doesn't like you Jack. Something about throwing him into a nest of alligators or some such-you really do have some James Bond moments don't you?" Jack met Vasili's eye.

"It's not like he didn't deserve it." Jack pointed out. He smiled when Vasily's body tightened ready for attack. Murdoc rolled his eyes.

"And there you go, I just started to think you were interesting and you prove you're just an ignorant alpha hillbilly after all. " Murdoc huffed. He looked genuinely disappointed.

"Well, Vasily and his friends were a little angry at me...a disagreement about a hit...wrong name, address...so embarrassing."

"Someone paid you more." Jack said.

"Tomato, tahmato. Anyway, I promised to give him you if he let me...have a little fun with Angus. So here we are." Murdoc bent and picked up a crab scuttling across the stone on the floor of the cave. He held it by its back carapice and put his gloved finger toward the small creature's claw. He laughed with delight as it caught his finger tip.

"Isn't that cute? I always thought of crabs as sea spiders, only tastier."He pulled his finger free and carefully put it on the ground facing Jack. He tapped the back sending it in Jack's direction, "That's it little friend, look at that lovely fat pink human sitting there like a plate of bacon."

"Fat?" Jack growled. Murdoc stood up and watched the crab. He sighed.

"Well we should go, high tide will be here in-" Murdoc looked at his watch, "Two hours or so. This cave will fill with water and you'll drown." Murdoc nudged the crap toward Jack's barefoot. Jack pulled his foot away. The crab skittered after it walking sideways, both claws up. Jack growled and kicked the creature away. It landed on its back all of its legs swinging in the air.

"Oh how mean, really Jack. Must you always be such a bully?" Music clucked his tongue as he raised a bood and stomped the crab into goo and fractured shell. Murdoc shrugged.

"No worries, Jack. You'll have more friends quite soon." Murdoc gazed out the cave entrance. Jack followed his gaze his own eyes bulging. Dozens of crabs were climbing out of the surf and skittling across the wet sand toward the cave.

Vasili's deep chest laugh filled the cave. Jack turned away as the man's breath blew against the side of his face. His breath stank of Borscht.

"They are not alligators...but the effect should be the same." Jack winced as hooks dug into his chin forcing him to look into the giant Russian's face. Jack grimaced at the oozing puckered cavern where his eye had been. Vasily laughed harder. As he stood he kicked Jack across the head. A long moan escaped. Murdoc leaned forward and grabbed Jack's sparse hair dragging his face up. Jack blinked but Murdoc's blurryface didn't go away.

"You threw me in the ocean with my throat slit, Jack. I am-very very upset about that. I will enjoy watching MacGyver get torn apart while you are having bits nibbled off. Your enemies will be having fun with your beautiful blonde boy while you get to experience drowning after being left for dead. Isn't that exciting?" Jack shot Murdoc a cold glare.

"Next time I won't miss." He growled. Murdoc sniffed.

"I love the ocean, don't you." Murdoc tipped his chin and followed Vasily out. He paused to flick a crab toward Jack. Jack couldn't hide his jump and panicked yelp as the pointed claws crawled up his leg toward his crotch.

"Have fun, Jack." Murdoc said over his shoulder. Jack didn't hear the assassin over the growing clicking of claws as hundreds of crabs crawled toward him a carpet of claws seeking soft flesh.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Mac moaned and rolled over. He gasped and closed his eyes and focused on breathing.

"Ok…" Mac mumbled to himself. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of formaldehyde and blood. He managed to not puke, "Ok," Mac tried again, Gotta get ready for a bunch of guys from who knows where who wants me dead, Murdoc is wounded and skulking around, Jack is MIA. No phone. 1900 plumbing, and I'm talking to myself." Mac shook his head and pulled himself to his feet using the steel table. He didn't want to think of what Murdoc did in the room. Mac studied the space after it stopped spinning.

Barrels of formaldehyde lined the wall. Mac looked up. Old pipes crossed the unfinished ceiling. Mac followed the pipes to the sink. He nodded. His plan will work. He needed tools. Mac wobbled out of the morgue and took a deep breath. The pounding of the ocean was relaxing. Mac stared out at the hazy lines of waves and frowned. He felt a knot in his gut. Sundown was an hour away. High tide would be two hours after that.

If Jack wasn't in the town, Mac had a pretty good suspicion where he was. Mac bit his lip. There were miles of beach and who knew how many caverns in the black silt and rock under Tesselton. Mac held his chest and groaned. One of his knees buckled. This was not going to be fun, and he had to hurry. Mac trusted Murdoc as far as he could lift the moon. He had no doubt "high noon" would happen long before noon, probably before dawn. Mac staggered to his feet and leaned against the old worn wood gasping for air.

Mac's eyes fell on the Tahoe. Jack had told him about the explosives. Mac smiled and he nodded. He could use that. Mac climbed up the stairs to the living quarters of the morgue. He leaned against the wall to keep the floor from thumping into his head again. He was seriously tired of passing out. Mac winced as he felt a trickle of blood run over the hand he held across his chest. Mac ignored it. He plopped into a bar stool and took out the first aid supplies. His vision blurred the names and ingredients of the pills.

Mac blinked. He shook out a dozen different pills and staggered to get a glass of water. Mac gagged them down. He hated pills, but he had to keep going. Mac took off the soggy black T-shirt and wet dressing on his chest. He couldn't reach the one on his back. Mac pulled out several rolls of dressings and tape. He pulled a tight wad of bandages around his chest and taped it in place. On top of this he wrapped an ACE wrap. Mac fell forward. The constricted bandage didn't help his breathing any, but it seemed to help the pain. Mac gasped and moved to the refrigerator. He found sealed bottles of water. Mac studied them. When he was satisfied they hadn't been messed with he sucked down two bottles. He avoided the food in the fridge and checked the cupboards. He found multiple layered boxed Poptarts. Mac smiled and ate until he was full.

By the time he'd done that, the pills had kicked in. He barely felt any pain and his veins seemed to bubble with electric acid. Mac's body shook. He ignored it and started his preparations.

Travelling the town he found an entire wall of tools and supplies in the mercantile. He found a rickety dolly cart that needed oil on the wheels in the half built jail. He trundled it down the street to the mercantile and grunted as he lifted two barrels of ten penny nails onto it. Mac collapsed beside the barrels moaning. He put his hand to his chest. He could feel blood soaking through the bandaging. Mac took long breaths riding the waves of torment shooting through his body.

After five minutes, he managed to shove himself to his feet. He stopped by the saloon and lifted some of the bottles. His head swam. He guessed the dust covered bottles held pure alcohol. Mac smiled. Perfect. He carried two armfuls out to his dolly. In the blacksmith's shop, Mac found a long angular piece of rusted steel. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it yet, but it could come in handy. The dolly's wheels shrieked as he reached the end of the narrow street. The broken pavement gave way to a worn, rutted dirt road. Mac left the dolly behind and leaned on a hitching rail. Everything swished around him. Mac glanced at the sun. It was edging toward the horizon. Everything had the shadowed tint of twilight-or he was slowly blacking out. A glance at his watch reassured Mac he wasn't falling over, just running out of time.

Mac paused as he neared a watering trough. He stiffly fell to one knee. Layers of rusted iron flaked off a plastic base. It would still be waterproof. Mac nodded his plan becoming clearer. He moaned as he staggered to his feet. He walked the last twenty feet to the half collapsed building at the end of the dirt road. The moldy sign was unreadable. Mac looked in but couldn't see through thick white layers of spider webs. Mac grimaced. He turned to leave then paused. Scales. Weight scales from the 1800s sat broken and rotted through on a broken bench. Mac leaned in closer and scanned the small shack. He saw a pile of papers sealed in plastic. Mac grinned. In this humid hot town important papers would have to be preserved. He'd been right. The amusement park had been built over an old '49er camp. This was the mining assessors office. The builders of Tasselton had probably used it as an office so they wouldn't ruin the original abandoned buildings. Those maps would tell where all the tunnels on the small inlet were. Mac grimaced. He just had to crawl through ten feet of spiders. Mac forced himself to stop cataloguing the dangerous spiders in California.

"They're more afraid of me than I am of them. Bullshit." Mac said as he saw tiny shadows scurry away from the window. Mac hobbled back to the dolly. He knew the bar would come in handy. Mac shuddered then threw open the door. The entire floor seemed to scurry away. Mac gave the arachnids time to take cover before he cut a path through the thick webs.

Mac swore he could feel hundreds of feet crawl across his skin.

"They're only spiders." Mac tried to tell himself. Mac didn't have any inherent fear of spiders, but there were hundreds. Mac slapped the papers with the long spear. Snagged them and ran back the way he came. Mac danced wildly brushing everything off him. Spiders plopped to the ground and ran toward the shack.

"Ugh." Mac shook. He leaned on his knees breathing hard. That was something he never wanted to do again. Gathering himself, Mac pushed himself toward the dolly. Time to get ready.


	6. Chapter 6

"Ouch, damn it-" Jack broke off choking as a frothy wave splashed into his face. He coughed and shook his head. His cries of pain were drowned out by the loud screaming of the waves. This is it, he thought. He gagged as he again sunk under water. The crab floated away as Jack's body twisted in the strong ebb tide. Jack managed to duck above water enough to suck in another breath. The wave circled back out of the cave giving him a brief reprieve. Jack blinked against the salty sting in his eyes.

"MAC!" He screamed as again he felt claws dig into the flesh of his legs cutting him up like a slab of bacon. Jack couldn't hold back his shouts of pain. His flesh was raw. The salty spit worked deeper as the pile of crabs around him gnawed.

At first it hadn't been to bad. The crabs were small he stomped on most of them. Their corpses had distracted the next wave, but they kept coming as the tide rose. Jack kicked a crab off the top of his left foot, using his right heel to free his smallest toe from its pincers. When the water had risen high enough he swam with the tide above the smaller crabs, but the ones around him now were big bastards. Jack regretted every meal he'd ever had at Crabshack.

"I'm dead…" He whined, "Sorry, Mac-"

"Jack?" Jack blinked and shook his head.

"MA-" Jack sputtered as he caught a wave in the face. He was again tugged into the black swirling mess. He thrashed. The wave had caught him unawares. His shoulders burned as he fought to raise above the crest of the wave. He yelled, panic blocking out everything. Stone! The cavern, it was full. He was drowning. Bubbles exploded from his mouth.

A crab filled his mouth he couldn't...he...Jack stilled. It wasn't a crab covering his mouth. It was something soft, rubbery...Jack couldn't hold his breath, he sucked in-air. Stale...rusty, air. Jack shook with relief.

Jack felt movement on his chest. He looked down. The water was slightly less dark. A hand was plucking crabs away from his body. Jack began to shake violently. A familiar hand patted his chest. The light came closer and Jack saw Mac grinning at him through a weird-looking homemade mask. Jack's tears flooded away with the swirling tide. Mac moved closer and leaned over Jack.

Mac held the flashlight close to the manacles. Jack felt movement around his hands then he was free. He moved to scoop Mac up in a hug. Mac stopped him and held up a heating bottle and vacuum cleaner. Jack nodded his understanding. Mac handed him the flashlight then guiding Jack with his hands, led the way out of the cave.

Jack whooped when he was free and clear bobbing in the ocean. Mac put a hand over his mouth. Jack remembered how he'd ended up in the cave in the first place. He nodded. Mac removed the homemade mask from Jack then himself.

"Oh my God, Mac-" Jack snagged Mac and pulled him in for a back-breaking hug. Mac went limp for a second, moaning. Jack jump back, "Shit! Sorry, brother-" Mac coughed and put a warm hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack ran the light over him. Mac was not a healthy color.

" 'S, 'k. We have to get out of here."

"No argument from me." Jack gushed. The brothers shared a quick grin in the dim flashlight then Mac slowly led his way back the way he'd come.

Mac collapsed on the table of a large boulder. Jack slumped beside him. Their heavy pained breathing overpowered the raising roar of surf. Jack coughed and rolled over. He shook his head and took in their situation. A quarter moon hung above them like a ladle full of surf. Sparks from the city scape in the distance danced among black whorls and white spewing lace. They had fought their way through stronger currents and climbed a tall boulder covered bluff. Jack worked his fingers. They hurt from the saltwater getting into the many cuts from crab pincers, many reopened due to the scraping against the slippery rocks as they climbed. Jack took a deep breath and sat up wiping his hands on his shredded shirt.

"So, Mac-" Jack scowled. His partner hadn't moved, "Mac? Mac?" Jack shook the blond. Mac's body moved under his touch, but Mac didn't move on his own. Jack sat up his sores forgotten. He pulled the flashlight out of Mac's limp hand and scanned Mac's body. Jack grimaced. Wearing wet black clothes, Jack couldn't tell if Mac was bleeding or not. He put his hand gently on Mac's back. His worry sky rocketed. He pulled his hand away not surprised to see a thick pad of blood cover his palm. Mac's body trembled.

"Hey, hey buddy...c'mon-" Jack ran his hand along Mac's neck, spine and head. He couldn't tell if all the blood was coming from Mac's center or if the kid was covered with other smaller wounds. Jack gritted his teeth and braced himself. He log-rolled Mac onto his back. Jack didn't like how limp the kid's body was.

Jack's hands shook as he checked Mac's carotid. Jack let out a breath. Mac's pulse was thready and weak but regular. Jack laid his hand on Mac's chest not liking the coarse scrape he felt under his fingers. Jack squinted up at the stars. It was close to midnight. The ghost town sat on a flat plateau about twenty feet farther up the boulder field. Jack studied the beach around them. Jack knew this beach had been artificially created and the boulders trucked in to help the silt shelf maintain stability. Jack remembered that there had been some sort of ruckus about Tasselton draining sewage directly into the ocean from this part of the beach. There was a sewer tunnel somewhere, but there would be no way of finding it at night especially with high tide. He couldn't see any other way off the shale beach. Up it was.

Jack closed his eyes and strained his ears. Over the loud roar of the ocean he couldn't hear the mercenaries above them, but he couldn't believe they'd abandon the old town without knowing Mac was dead or-. Jack frowned. There was something else going on. Murdoc had acted in control like Vassily worked for him, but Jack knew the Russian. There was no way in hell he would trust Murdoc enough to work with him. Jack replayed the conversation they'd had in the cave-was Murdoc their prisoner? Jack chuckled, the idea warming his heart. If Murdoc was on Vasily's bad side, Jack was almost happy the snake didn't die when he slit his throat. Jack wiped his face. He was cold and Mac was shivering. They couldn't stay where they were.

"Mac?" Jack murmured tapping the blonde's face. Jack winced then shook Mac. Mac moaned and his arm came up to push Jack away, "That's it, brother. Wakey, wakey." Mac's eyes fluttered then slowly opened. He turned his head.

"Ung-Jack? You…'k?" Mac's voice was terse with pain. Jack hissed in pain as he rose to a crouch. He fell back on his ass with a yelp. His butt had been chewed by pinchers and his drying shorts were caked in salt.

"I'm fantastic." Jack grumbled, "I'm never going to an all you can eat crab legs again." Mac snorted and half rolled over with a moan. He closed his eyes panting. He felt Jack's hand on his shoulder. He forced his aching body to move. Everything was fuzzy. Jack talked to him, but his voice wobbled like static.

"..., bud." Jack held Mac under the arms and pulled the blonde to his feet. Mac's knees buckled and everything faded for a long minute.

"Whoa, shit." Jack caught Mac and almost fell to the stone with him. Jack managed to duck his shoulder under Mac's arm and supported the kid's weight with his hip. He held Mac with his right arm and tapped Mac's face until he saw blue eyes glint at him sparking with moonlight.

"You back?" Mac blinked at Jack confused then nodded, "Ok, here we go, brother. One step at a time." Mac held his chest, blood dripping down the back of his hand. Jack gritted his teeth and dragged Mac up the remaining distance to the top of the plateau.

Jack was panting; he almost collapsed when the ground evened out. He clicked off the flashlight and slipped it in his waistband. They had come up behind a pile of rubble. The morgue was down the street to their left. They were across from the Apothecary. Jack staggered to the ground behind the half fallen building. The mining office, according to a cracked sign. Jack huffed in air easing Mac along beside him. Mac's head ducked to his shoulder. Jack could hear his friend's breath rasp harshly in his ear.

"Still with me, brother?" Mac hummed. Jack eased Mac to the sandy ground then fell to his knees beside him. He peered around the last standing corner. He didn't see any movement, but he knew they were there. Jack narrowed his eyes, his fingers twitching. He'd never wished for Bertha, his beloved Barrett sniper rifle, to be in his arms more than he did now.

"Ja-ung." Mac moaned. He raised a hand and rested it on his forehead. Jack leaned back and pressed his finger in Mac's neck. Too fast, too faint. Jack scowled. He had to get them out of this hell hole now. Jack bit his lip thinking. Vassily and co. had to have vehicles of some sort, where were they? Murdoc's Tahoe still sat in front of the morgue. If Mac hadn't used it, or cleared it of IEDs that meant he had plans for it. Plans, Jack crouched closer to Mac and tapped his cheek. He knew Mac had to have some bad ass tricks up his sleeve.

"Jack...un...help...mng." Jack fought his protective instinct and helped Mac sit up. Mac closed his eyes, his breathing was fast and hoarse. Jack eased him against a larger stone. Jack ducked his head and waited a hand holding Mac up. Mac slowly raised his head. Even in the dim light of the half moon Mac's face was an unhealthy pale. Mac took a couple shaky breaths then smiled at Jack. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"R...re...ady?" Jack grinned. He squeezed Mac's shoulder.

"Always, let's light it up, baby." Mac laughed then closed his eyes against the pain. He turned his head.

"In...side...pull...lever." Jack waited, but Mac only stared at him steadily.

"Inside pull lever? That's it?" Mac shrugged then winced. Jack shook his head, "Alright, wait here." Mac put a hand against his chest and leaned back. He nodded. Jack scooted along the broken wall and climbed inside the black interior.

"Ow, dammit." Jack whispered as he stepped on something sharp. He clicked on the flashlight ducking low and cupping a hand around it. In the darkened ghost town any light would shine light a spot light. Jack froze, "Damn, you've been busy kiddo." A webbing of tubes and wires sprawled around the small open area circled by the sagging wood building. Jack's skin crawled when he saw spiders creep like carpet along one wall. He bit his finger to keep from screaming. If he never saw a crab, a spider or anything with more than two legs again it'd be too soon. Jack wrinkled his nose. Three barrels were gathered together in the middle of all the pipes. He had no idea what was in them, but they stank like ass and rotten corpse. In the middle of it all was a metal lever tied to an upright ceiling brace. Here goes-Jack said. He pulled the lever. Nothing happened. Jack was about to push it up and pull it down again when he heard a hissing. A loud thumping seemed to rattle exposed metal piping along the well. A group of wires started sparking. Jack turned and hopped back out the back wall.

"I'm not sure what you did, Mac, but it's-" Jack broke off freezing. He swallowed around a knot of fear in his throat. Shit. He slowly turned ignoring the cold circle of a gun barrel pressing into the side of his head. Murdoc stepped back.

"Hello, Jack." Jack bunched his hands into fists about to swing into the assassin gun be damned. Murdoc held up a black gloved hand and lowered his gun, "Easy, easy. I'm not here to hurt you." Jack took a step forward.

"Excuse me if I don't believe you!" Jack snarled. He grabbed Murdoc's black shirt and whirled slamming the man into the rotten wood of the mining shack behind him. Jack frowned. Murdoc went with it and continued to hold his pistol aimed at the sky, "What are you playing at?"

"Look, Jack. I wasn't lying when I said I was here to rescue you-"

"From the trouble you got us into." Murdoc stopped and nodded.

"Ok, I'll give you that. I needed to take Vassily and his gang out and I knew you and Angus would be able to handle it without any trouble-" Jack's anger surged. He pulled Murdoc close and stared into the man's black eyes.

"Without any trouble?" His tone was a little more than a chilling growl. Murdoc smiled letting his own sickness show in his eyes.

"Did you really think I'd just let you slit my throat? Besides watching you get nibbled on by sea spiders was...delicious. Maybe when we're out of here we should go to Red Lobster?" Jack narrowed his eyes and slammed Murdoc back against the wall. The entire shack swayed. Murdoc laughed. Jack stepped back ready to plow a fist into the assassin's shark smile. A massive percussion wave flattened him against the hard dirt. Jack's ears rang telling him there had been a hell of an explosion. The sky was filled with a mushroom of fire.

Jack shook his head. He realized Murdoc was sprawled across his legs. He kicked the man away from him and crawled over to Mac's side. Mac's head slumped to the side. Jack felt his pulse and let out a deep breathe. No change.

"Is he still alive?" Murdoc said at his elbow. Jack growled spun and nailed the man in the face with a solid punch. Murdoc sat back.

"Ow, that was uncalled for." Jack smiled at the spurt of of blood. Murdoc set down the Beretta. Jack snatched it up and grinned. Murdoc rolled his eyes. Screams drew their attention. Jack turned and peered over the pile of boulders. Now his ears were clearing he could hear yells of Russian. Another fireball blasted into the sky, then another. One by one every building exploded.

"This is better than eviscerating mice!" Murdoc said beside him. Jack looked over at him with a wrinkled nose. Murdoc's eyes gleamed with excitement. He clapped his hands together, "If only we had popcorn-Oh look! A crispy critter!"

"You are one sick son of a bitch." Jack growled putting some space between him and the assassin.

"Thank you, oh look there's Vassily." Jack narrowed his eyes. Russians spilled from the buildings screaming. A couple flared into flames. The smell of burning flesh and the peculiar soul shattering wet screams made Jack's neck hairs curl. Vassily stood in the middle of the short street. His face was wild with mad rage. Flames surrounded him as he tried to rally his soldiers into some sort of order.

Jack knew one thing about mercenaries. No dinero no destructo. Being away from Russia, Vasily's hold on them lessened. They scattered into the shadows. Jack smiled. He didn't blame them. Mac's brain was scary at the best of times, when cornered?

Vassily screamed. Jack half turned. He could hear distant motors. The mercs were bailing and taking their transportation with them. Jack glanced at Mac and scowled. He reminded himself they were still in the center of LA. He was surprised the national guard wasn't hovering over them already.

"This is the good part." Murdoc whispered. Jack glared at him and shoved him away. Vassily raised his fists and screamed at the night sky. Jack didn't understand a lot of Russian, but if the giant Russian's tone was any indication every American going back to Washington's granddaddy was damned to hell. Jack let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He heard the distant see-saw song of sirens. He could see lights flying their direction from LA. Blackhawks, from Phoenix most likely. Jack turned back to Vassily. The man turned and ran toward the Tahoe.

"Oh this is going to be so much fun!" Jack shook his head for the hundredth time wishing he'd dug just a little deeper with his knife. Vassily ran and pulled at the door. He leaned forward hearing something in the car. Jack had a pretty good idea what the man saw by the man's body language. Vassily stepped back and started to sprint away from the Tahoe. He didn't get far. The vehicle exploded. Vassily stopped in mid step arching back and screaming.

"Shrapnel! Beautiful, oh Angus, you never disappoint." Murdoc hissed awe in his voice. Jack realized the assassin was right. Vassily had been cut to ribbons by nails exploded outward by the explosion. He fell to the ground shredded. Jack smiled and held a hand over his eyes. The helicopter raked over them with a bright spotlight. Jack waved up. Through the spots in his retinas he saw Riley pointing down at him. Jack let out a deep breath.

"Aw, how sweet, the family's all here." Jack gritted his teeth. He whirled to face Murdoc his Beretta pulled up into play.

"Now, Jack, after all this bonding time-you still think I'm that stupid?" Jack growled and added his other hand to support his pistol. Murdoc crouched beside Mac's limp form and held a long tactical knife against his throat.

"I can't even describe how stupid I think you are." Jack said trying to get a rise out of the man. Murdoc smiled.

"If you weren't the very embodiment of idiocy, I would think you meant that as an insult." Jack frowned.

"Yeah, whatever. Step back or I'll plug you where you stand."

"There's that down home Texican I love so much. I'm sorry to stab and run, but I'm on a clock so...toodles…" Murdoc slashed down with the knife. Jack emptied a clip into the man. Murdoc's body jerked then he fell backwards disappearing off the bluff. Jack dropped the empty pistol and leaped to Mac's side.

A deep cut ran down Mac's neck. Jack yanked off his T Shirt and pressed it against the kid's neck. Mac moaned, and his eyes moved under his eye lids. A hand came up to absently brush Jack away. Jack pressed harder.

"Easy, kiddo, I gotcha...you're ok, you're ok…"


	7. Chapter 7

Cold. Mac shook. Pain. He moaned and reached out trying to push the pain away. His hand was captured by another, warm, familiar. Mac fought his eyes, finally managing to crack the lids. Everything swirled around him. Movement. Noise. It slammed into his head. Mac closed his eyes and turned away.

"Keep pressure, Jack." He knew that voice. It was familiar, calming-Mac's lips moved, but it hurt too much to try to add wind to his voice. He coughed and curled forward. A blade impaled him through the chest. His neck! Someone was strangling him, cutting off his head! He slid an elbow backwards trying to dislodge his attacker. The pain in his chest peaked with the move. Mac cried out and squeezed the hand in his hard. He heard a soft gasp of pain.

"Ung." He tried to say he was sorry, but his tongue felt as big as a sock. He tried the eyes again. Eyes, brown eyes. Brown hair, long, curly-

"R...Ri…" He managed to gasp. Riley smiled down at him.

"Yeah, Mac your ok."

"J-"

"Right here, brother. Don't move, you're losing blood like a cracked oil pan." Mac frowned. He moved to turn his head. Jack was behind him, pressing on his neck?

"Ok, Gill, got the IV, what's our ETA?" Mac followed the voice to a familiar thin balding man. Frank. Mac's eyes drifted to a red head hanging fluids. He could feel an IV site, oxygen, pulsing beep-Mac coughed and curled forward biting his tongue to keep from screaming. He crushed Riley's hand as he tried to breath through the tidal waves of agony.

He could feel wet drops spill down his cheek. He was hot and cold. He shook. He closed his eyes unable to slow the shaking.

"Easy, kiddo. We're almost there." Jack's familiar voice at his side was like a comforting blanket curling around him.  
"Mnk." Mac mumbled.

"What?" Mac didn't try again. He was tired. He'd forgotten what he was trying to say. It didn't matter. He was sleepy. He let out a long sigh feeling his muscles uncurl. Everything seemed to drift- From far away he heard a loud siren go off. He felt movement around him increase to a frenzy. Breath whumped out of him as he was lifted and moved onto his back.

"Mac! Mac, don't you do this to me!" Mac frowned. Jack sounded scared. Why was Jack scared? Everything was fine. He was just tired and had to sleep.

"Frank, B/P's crashing, pulse ox dropping. I'm going up to 5L oxygen."

"Ok, crank open the fluids."  
"Got it, switched up to LR."

"Riley, how long?"

"Less than five. Jack?"

"I can't stop the blood from soaking through."

"Here, Jack, add this ab pad to the shirt. Don't let up pressure for a second. Riley, call Doc Carl tell him we'll need a six pack and PRBCs stat."

"Roger...He says a team of surgeons is ready to go for his chest and neck."

"Good-" Everything seemed to dim. Mac smiled. The pain was floating on an ocean far out to sea-

"Mac, glad you're having a great time, but you are freaking me the fuck out." Mac let out a deep breath. It's ok, Jack. It's going to be fine. Mac wasn't sure if he said that out loud or not.

"Dammit! It's bleeding worse!" Mac felt a black wave curl up through his toes, along his legs. He floated under it and let go.

Jack shared a panicked look with Riley. They both felt Mac go limp. Jack pressed harder on the bloody wad between his trembling fingers and Mac's neck. They had no idea if Murdoc had nicked the carotid artery, jugular or a smaller vessel, but it was obvious he'd lost too much blood. Jack felt the helicopter dip and closed his eyes. They were on final approach. Thank god.

"C'mon, Mac. Hang in there, ok? C'mon...c'mon…"

Jack jumped as they thumped on the pad. The door slid open. Gillian, Riley and Frank dove out the door pulling Mac's cart with them. Jack fell forward losing his balance. He winced as he accidently put his full weight on Mac's neck. Blood squished out of the wet dressing and spilled in a thick sheen down the back of his hand. Jack felt his gut churn. He scrambled to follow Mac. Arms around his chest stopped him. Jack tried to shrug out of the grip. He felt cool strong hands ease over his.

"I got him, Jack. Let go." Jack turned to look into Sally's calm face. The world froze for half a heart beat, "I got him, I promise." Jack nodded and dropped his hands. Sally took his place. Jack fell to his knees on the helicopter pad. Everything seemed wobbly and unreal. He pushed to his feet only to fall back down. Jack frowned. What the hell? He was fine. Mac was the one who needed help. And he got it, Jack saw with a quick breath of relief. Doc Carl, Laura, Sally, and several figures in green scrubs worked on Mac as they shoved him in the transport elevator. Jack's heart pounded. He had to go to Mac. The kid needed him! Jack again tried to stand. His knees buckled, but this time strong arms caught him. Jack swallowed feeling nauseous.

"Easy, Jack. We got you." RIley said at his side. Frank supported his other side. Jack snorted.

"That's my line." He groused, or tried to. For some reason, his muscles stopped obeying his commands.

"It's ok…" Everything blinked out.

Jack bolted upright and was standing before he was completely conscious. He looked around him wildly, his breathing fast and shallow.

"Hey, Jack." Jack blinked. Izzy, Doc Carl's grandmother and holder of several doctorates, greeted Jack as if he hadn't moved. Jack recognized the curtained cubicle as Phoenix medical. Everything came back with a crash.

"Mac?" Jack leaned on the cart behind him. Izzy grabbed Jack's elbow. Jack automatically climbed on the bed. The older woman had a habit of making him obey her without saying a word.

"He's still in surgery. The last update said it's been rough, but he's holding his own." Jack rubbed his face. He winced and felt his nose. Stitches crossed the length of his nose, chin, cheek and ear. Izzy slapped his hand. He glared at her. She smiled. Her sea green eyes crinkled with amusement but lost none of their smoothness. Jack had never seen the woman flustered or even upset. She was the definition of tranquil.

"Put your feet back up; I'm not done yet." Jack frowned. He looked down surprised. Two of his toes on his right foot had thick muffs of stitches. Blood flowed from a large gash on the top of his left foot. He didn't feel it.

"We numbed it." Izzy said as she bent over his feet again. Jack laid back. He frowned up at the IV fluids. Without looking up, Izzy answered his unasked question, "You were exhausted and suffered from exposure. What snacked on you?"

"Crabs."

"Crabs?" Jack met her surprised look.

"Murdoc." Izzy nodded as if that answered all of her questions, "Is he dead?" Izzy shook her head.

"I don't know. I haven't heard." Jack licked his lips. A salty aftertaste turned his stomach. His muscles hurt and he was tired deep to his bones.

"He probably is. He's a cockroach, cut his throat... shoot him...the fucker does die. Uh, sorry Izzy." Izzy raised an eyebrow.

"You stabbed and shot him?"

"I slashed his throat, but he moved to the side."

"Hit muscle." Jack looked at Izzy surprised.

"Yeah." He didn't know why, but Izzy knowing how to slash a throat was...wrong. Izzy chuckled and nimbly tied off the last stitch. She cut the string and reached over for gauze.

"Then you shot him?"

"Emptied an entire clip into the...jerk's chest. He fell off a stone bluff. I would have made sure, but Mac…" Jack felt a lump form in his throat. Izzy patted his leg.

"I know, Jack. You did the right thing, Mac wouldn't have surprised if he lost much more blood. If Murdoc somehow survived," Izzy shrugged, "You'll get him."

"I haven't done so well so far. Mac was kidnapped, shot-"

"Jack!" Jack's mouth snapped shut at her sharp tone, "Stop. Just stop." Izzy communicated an entire pep talk in that one word. Jack wiped his eyes. They filled with tears, from the ocean not from emotion. Jack sniffed and turned away from Izzy. The ocean didn't explain the ache in his chest. Izzy smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder.

"Get some rest, Jack. You've been through a lot."

"Mac-"

"Will be right beside you when you wake up." Jack yawned. Izzy put her hand across his forehead. It was a cool, soothing gesture. Jack felt himself unwind, "That's it...shhh-" Her spell was complete, Jack drifted away into a quiet solid sleep.

"You're good." Matty said softly from the corner of the joined curtains. Izzy turned with a smile.

"He was exhausted." Matty nodded and came in to stand beside Jack. She smiled. It was so rare to see the man calm and still.

"Any word on Mac yet?" Izzy said with a sour look. Matty shook her head.

"The bullet did a lot of damage. I have no idea how he was even up and moving after he got shot."

"He's strong."

"That's for damn sure."

"And Murdoc?" Matty's eyes turned to hard marble.

"No sign."

"He could have been washed out to sea?" Matty shook her head.

"We can't assume that. TAC is scouring the beach. We're doing everything we can to find him, but-"

"He's a cockroach." Matty narrowed her eyes.

"Insult to cockroaches." Izzy raised an eyebrow. Matty smiled. Of all of Phoenix, she was the only one not intimidated by Izzy's stern grandmotherliness. Izzy chuckled.

"Fair enough."

Mac was tacked to the wall by a telephone-sized I-beam. His neck hurt. Everything hurt. He couldn't hold back a soft moan.

"Hey, brother, you waking up this time?" Mac let out a painful breath.

"No." He mumbled. Jack said something, but Mac lived up to his word and drifted back to sleep.

Murdoc stood over him. Mac gasped a cry of pain and surprise escaping. He tried to climb out of bed. Murdoc held him by his throat digging his nails into Mac's flesh.

"Easy, Angus. I just wanted to come say hi and make sure you're ok-" Murdoc looked up surprised. His hand pulled away. Mac jackknifed up with a scream. Hands held his arm. Mac fought to get free. He was soaked with sweat and shook violently. He punched Murdoc; the man easily caught his hand.

"...Mac! C'mon, man, wake up." Mac blinked confused his chest heaving painfully. It wasn't Murdoc.

"Wha…?" He gasped. Everything was blurry and black bubbles drifted across his brain. He slumped to the side. Familiar hands caught him. His ear fell against Jack's chest. His brother's heart beat was a soothing lullaby. Mac's body relaxed and he slipped into sleep.

"Mac?" The voice was far away, a boat in the distant horizon. Mac gasped. He felt hot and exhausted. He turned his head to the side. He felt sick.

"Mmmngh." He mumbled. A familiar calloused hand brushed his hair back from his wet forehead. Mac shoved and heaved until his eyes cracked open. Slowly, he blinked. Jack leaned over him. Mac managed a ghost of a smile. Jack grinned.

"There you are. We've been waiting forever." Mac's eyes slid closed. They were too heavy, "It's ok, partner. We're all here, you're ok." Mac thought he might have nodded, but wasn't sure. Everything was so hot, like a furnace.

Flames. Mac moaned trying to move away from them, but he was surrounded.

"No…" He mumbled. Something cool brushed his forehead, Mac gasped in relief as if his head crested above a lake of fire. He opened his eyes. A blurry figure sat beside him.

"Hey, Mac. You're ok." Riley. Mac's eyes sagged closed. He was just too tired.

The fire was out. Mac dripped with water. Had someone used a hose? Mac heard familiar voices around him. He moaned and opened his eyes. It was easier this time, but everything was blurry.

"Mac, we gotta get you changed.' Bozer. Mac tried to roll away; he wasn't an invalid! Mac's body wouldn't move to his command. Mac hissed in frustration.

"Easy, kiddo. You don't want us to drop you, do you?" Mac's forehead creased with annoyance. Jack chuckled. Mac was rolled onto his back. A cool cloth washed his face and hair. It smelled of soap. Mac felt himself relax. It didn't hurt when they rolled him from side to side and cleaned him. Mac let out a content breath. Even though he didn't do anything, he felt exhausted by the time he was in a dry bed, clothes and smelled of powder. Familiar fingers ran through his hair. Mac melted.

Mac opened his eyes. He blinked. He felt lightheaded and nauseous. Mac laid on his side propped by pillows. He swallowed, but his mouth was a dry desert. He took in the room. Still at Phoenix. Jack sat in the recliner beside him flipping through a _Street Muscle_ magazine. Mac managed to flop his hand in Jack's general direction. Jack straightened and grinned.

"Awake for real, this time?" Mac chuckled. He frowned as he took in the healing cuts on Jack's face. Mac could see the older man had stitches, but they were out and the scars fading.

"How long?"

"Two weeks, give or take." Mac nodded. That explained it. Mac ran a hand over his chest. He felt a thick tube of dressings. He took a deep breath. It still hurt, but it didn't double him over. It hurt to swallow. Mac felt his neck. Half his neck had a dressing taped to it. That he didn't remember.

"A gift from Murdoc." Jack growled at Mac's puzzled frown, "No, he isn't dead. Not for lack of trying, I promise you that." Mac smiled. Jack looked away his face reddened and his jaw tight. Mac blinked at him sleepily.

"Not your fault...he's slippery." Mac's voice was thick with fatigue.

"Too damn slippery. I hate that guy."

"Me too." Jack did a double take. He'd never heard Mac say he hated anything. Mac yawned. Jack shook his head. After everything Mac had suffered at the man's hands, Mac had every right to hate the snake. Jack reached out and took Mac's heat. Mac was still warm, but nowhere near what he had been.

"You 'k?" Jack smiled and squeezed Mac's hand.

"I am now. I was getting worried about you." Mac offered another week smile.

"I'm 'k. Just tired." Jack nodded now wanting to exhaust Mac with a debate. He knew how bad the kid still felt when Mac didn't ask when he could go home.

"I know, kiddo." Mac's eyes slowly sagged.

"Hey, Mac?" Mac slit his eyes open.

"Thanks for the rescue, brother." Mac's cheek twitched with an aborted smile.

"You, too." Jack smiled and sat back letting Mac fall asleep. Jack sighed glad everything was on the way back to normal, even if Murdoc lurked in the background. Next time, Jack wouldn't miss.


End file.
